


If I Fall

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [26]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deckhand Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M, Operation Mongoose (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: "Save Henry" he had said, but Emma can't just leave him to bleed to death in the street.A different ending for the Deckhand!Hook storyline for ohmakemeahercules on her birthday.





	If I Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohmakemeahercules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmakemeahercules/gifts).



> Inspired by the song of the same name by JJ Heller.

_You are a house that’s broken down. You are a house that’s burning. And everything in me wants to run, but that’s not love._

“Save Henry.”

Emma blinks at Killian’s words, tears building behind her eyes. His voice - it almost sounds like the Killian she knows. Yet as her eyes meet his, the bashful, hesitant look she sees there isn’t _her_ Killian at all, and her heart sinks.

“Killian, you can’t beat them.”

She steps closer to him, a protectiveness surging through her. This is his arch enemy’s story; she knows how it will probably end, and she can’t let that happen. He leans closer to her, his breath against her neck. 

“If I can help return things to how they were meant to be, then what happens to me here won’t matter now, will it? Now go. Save your boy.”

His eyes beneath the locks of his hair are more determined than she has seen yet, and her heart swells. Rumplestiltskin can’t change him, not really, not deep down. She swallows, bites down on her bottom lip. She knows he’s right when she sees the black guards advancing. Killian gives her a tiny shove, and she darts to Henry. As she shields her son, she can’t help but look back. Relief surges through her as he uses his sword to knock down bags of flour to take out Lily and the guards. _Run,_ she thinks, _they’re distracted, run!_

Henry yanks on her arm, and she almost takes off with him, sure that Killian will be right behind them, but then she hears her father’s voice. 

“Is she worth your life, pirate?”

Emma almost whimpers at the foreign edge of hate in her father’s words, and she turns back as Charming advances on Killian. This black version of her father still holds his sword in that confident, expert way she knows so well. Yet this man, this man who looks so familiar yet is so vastly different than the gentle father who cups the back of her head so tenderly, will show Killian no mercy. She gasps, a lump rising in her throat.

“I’m willing to find out,” Killian replies, and if not for the slight tremor in his voice, she would think her pirate was back. The one willing to die for her. 

_Killian, no!_

Her father clearly has the upper hand at first, and Emma is rooted in horror, unable to turn away or flee. Then Killian surprises them all, sending Charming’s sword clattering from his hand. Killian pushes him to the ground, and laughs in surprise. 

“What do you know, I _am_ a natural.”

Emma can’t help but smile at the cockiness that slips through as he taunts the queen, but then she sees her father rise up behind him -

“Killian!” she screams as her father plunges his sword into Killian’s back. 

“I never did like pirates,” he snarls, giving his weapon a final twist. 

All the blood rushes from Emma as she watches Killian’s face grimace in pain, his eyes locked on hers. 

“No!” she screams, her heart shattering as he crumples to the ground, his hand outstretched towards her. 

“Mom!” Henry yells frantically, yanking at her arm. 

Emma can scarcely see through the tears streaming down her face, but the black guards are advancing, her mother’s sadistic shouts vibrating through the air.

“Mom! We have to get out of here!”

It’s the fireball her mother sends their way that snaps Emma out of it, shoving Henry down the nearest cobblestone street and out of the way of the deadly magic. The heat of the fireball flickers against her back, but it’s the pain in her heart that hurts worse. She lets Henry lead, dodging down one street, then the other, numb to anything but the agony she feels in the depths of her soul. Finally, she stops, her head reeling and her limbs heavy.

“I can’t,” she gasps out to Henry, “I can’t just leave him there.”

She curls in on herself, the sobs racking her body, and Henry releases the hand he’s been tugging on as he’s dragged her down the streets. 

“Mom,” is all he whispers as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. 

He shouldn’t have to do this, he’s only twelve. She should be the one leading him to safety, comforting his heartbreak.

“I love him too, Mom,” he whispers against her hair. 

Emma jerks back, her eyes wide with surprise. “I - I never said that I . . . even to him -”

Henry shrugs. “It’s kind of obvious.”

She hangs her head, the tears coming again. She can’t stop them, and she’s never had this problem before. Henry wraps his arm around her again. 

“But if we fix all this, we’ll get him back.”

Emma presses her lips together, lifting her head as a resolve solidifies within her. “Yes, we’ll get him back, but we’re still not leaving him lying in the street.”

“Mom -”

She ignores Henry’s concerned admonition as she strides to the corner of the next street. He’s right there behind her as she peers cautiously around the bend. 

“Mom,” he tries again, “what about the black guards, and Lily, and -”

“Stay here, kid,” she whispers back as she slinks down the street, staying close to the wall. She wasn’t paying a lot of attention after watching Killian get stabbed, but she hopes her feet remember the turns they took. 

“Not that way.”

Henry yanks her from taking the next left, pointing down a narrower lane to her right. She scowls at her son. 

“I told you to stay put.”

“He’s . . . he’s like . . . “ Henry sighs, “like a dad to me . . . almost. I mean, I can’t -”

Emma smiles and puts a hand to his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain.”

They hear the black guards questioning a merchant down one alleyway and see them racing down a side street, but they manage to avoid them both times. Emma hopes they’ll soon give up the search. She also hopes they left Killian where he fell, and that . . . but she can’t bring herself to express what else she longs for her in her heart. 

“Killian!” she shouts, heedless of who might hear her cries when she sees him still lying there, flour bags strewn around him, their contents soaking up some of the blood. There is far too much of it, she thinks, as she falls to her knees beside him. 

“Emma?” he asks weakly, his eyes fluttering open, and her heart thumps in her chest to hear her name from his lips again. 

“I’m here,” she says, unable to keep from weeping as she strokes his face.

“You -” he coughs, blood trickling between his lips, “were supposed to get the hell out of here, you bloody stubborn woman.”

Emma manages a watery laugh, “Now there’s the pirate I love.”

“Y-you love me?”

Emma manages a smile as she shifts to cradle his head in her lap, “I told you we were _very close_. What the hell did you think I meant?”

For a moment, his face, far too pale, fills with a beaming smile, and his dull eyes regain some of their sparkle. But then he lets out a shuddering breath, and his eyes slip closed, and Emma shakes him roughly by the shoulders. 

“No, Killian, please!” 

She turns him, clutches him close to her chest. Henry kneels at her side, and she can hear his own tears. Her hand hovers over his wound, and she trembles in frustration when nothing happens. If only she had her magic here, she could heal him!

Then, miraculously, she hears Killian groan. The sound is barely audible, but her eyes connect with Henry’s, filled with hope. 

“Get that wheelbarrow!” 

Henry nods and does her biding. Emma yanks at the fabric of her blouse, managing to separate the sleeve at its seam. She does the same to the other sleeve, then ties them together to create a makeshift bandage. She wraps this around Killian’s torso, hoping to stop the bleeding. By that time, Henry has maneuvered the wheelbarrow over, and together they manage to hoist Killian onto it. The moans of pain that Killian makes as they do so fills her heart with hope that maybe they really can save him. 

_I planted seeds down in the ground, not everyone is growing. When I’m tempted to give up, I choose love._

There’s darkness all around Killian. He can hear things, as if from far away, and he wants so badly to reach them. Yet his limbs are heavy and refuse to move, no matter how hard he tries. His eyes won’t open either. He keeps trying to fully awaken, but it’s as if his eyelids are too heavily weighted to cooperate. The words he hears are clear, but they float far out of his reach. 

“You have to try, Mom!”

“It won’t work, Henry.”

“How do you know?”

“He doesn’t remember me.”

“But when the wedding bells ring - “

He knows the voices belong to Emma and her son, but he has no idea what they are talking about. They get farther and farther away, and he feels like he’s falling down a deep hole . . . 

_Beauty and light will fight for you. Goodness will rise; it shines for you._

“Killian . . . “

He’s trying to wake again, but it’s still so difficult . . . 

“Killian, please, come back to me . . . “

Those words, they feel so familiar. He can also feel cool, slender hands caress his face. They trail over his jaw, cupping his cheek, then they ghost across his brow, brushing at his hair. He knows these hands; somehow, though he just met her, Emma’s touch is like coming home. 

“I love you so much.”

She’s crying. Emma is crying. No one has ever cared enough about him to weep over him. Not since Liam. He remembers now; she told him she loves him. He still can’t really believe it; that this feisty, brilliant, strong woman could love a pitiful coward like him. 

“I wish I had told you. In our world.” 

Her fingers are in his hair now, and he can feel himself being pulled fully into consciousness. But he wants to stay where he is, in the darkness, away from the pain. Not just the pain of his wound, but the pain that will surely come when she looks into his eyes and sees that he’s not the man she loves at all, but just a poor shadow of him. 

He wants her love, he knows that now. So badly it’s like an ache in his chest. He’s only known her for what - a day? But he loves her already, he’s more sure of that than he’s been of anything in his life. He never believed in love at first sight before, but he does now. Because he loved her the second she collided with him in that tower. She barrelled into his chest, looked up at him with adoration in her eyes, and he hasn’t been the same since. 

And here she is, weeping over him, telling him that she loves him. But it isn’t really _him_ she loves, is it? It’s the other version of him. The one who wields a sword with confidence and isn’t stupid enough to get stabbed in the back. The one who had the guts to woo an amazing woman like Emma Swan and actually win her heart. 

He’s about to open his eyes, face reality, when she lays her head on his chest, her tears wetting his shirt. Is he selfish to fake incoherence just a bit longer in order to enjoy her embrace? Perhaps. God help him, he’s just that desperate. 

“Killian,” she whispers, her lips brushing against his skin where his shirt exposes his chest. Can she feel his pounding heart? “I love you, do you hear me? Every version of you. Captain Hook, Killian Jones, and yes, Hook the deck hand. Because no author, no circumstance, can change who you are deep down. A good man, a hero, the man I love.”

Her words send something warm he can’t identify all through him. The pain of his wound is sharper, but so is everything else: the light behind his closed eyelids, the feel of her fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt, her soft hair brushing against his chin. 

Then her lips are hovering over his. “I love you, Killian Jones.”

She presses her lips to his, and he never thought anything could feel so soft and full of fire at the same time. He moves his lips against hers, opening his mouth, and he can’t quite believe it, but he knows how to kiss this woman. Like he’s been doing it every day for as long as he can remember. 

Emma gasps, but not from the surprise of him kissing her back. She gasps for the same reason his eyes fly open: the pulse of light that shoots out from their joined lips. The room spins, and a myriad of memories assault his brain. His _actual_ memories, not the ones of this false life. His eyes open fully to see Emma hovering over him. Behind her is the ceiling of the Charmings’ loft. They did it, they’re back in Storybrooke. Emma arches a brow and her lips quirk up.

“You were awake that whole time?”

He smirks at her as he sits up, hearty and whole. “I was enjoying your little speech, love.”

Emma rolls her eyes even as she throws her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he tells her as he buries his fingers in her hair. 

Her parents are awake now, her boy as well, but Killian doesn’t care. He pulls Emma onto his lap, kissing her with all the passion he possesses. They shared true love’s kiss, damn it, and he plans on enjoying it. 

_If you fall, I fall with you. If you hurt, I feel it too. Even if my heart turns black and blue, I will love you._

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The whole time during Operation Mongoose, I wondered, "If all they need is a true love's kiss, why can't Emma just lay one on Killian?" Yeah, I know they say it doesn't work with memory loss, but did you see his face in the tower when she crashed into him? That's love at first sight if I ever saw it!


End file.
